


I Know Everything You Don't Want Me To.

by livvywritesgay (livvywrites)



Series: Don't Know Where We're Going (But We Know Where We Belong) [2]
Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Bottom!Harry, Divorced!Harry, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Getting Together, Kid Fic, Kid!Fic, M/M, Single Parent Louis, Top Louis, could probably be read as stand-alone, divorced!louis, future!fic, implied bottom harry, sort of a two-chaptered epilogue, top!Louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:00:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvywrites/pseuds/livvywritesgay
Summary: He’s finishing up dinner when his mobile goes off. Wiping his fingers off on the napkin in his lap, he unlocks it and smiles as he’s met by a toothy grin.Wish you were here Uncle Harry!the text reads and Harry runs a thumb over Jack’s Mickey Mouse ears. It’s a great picture, like all pictures of Jack are. He just radiates happiness and never fails to make Harry smile. He wishes he was there too, at Disneyland with his favourite boy, even though it’s always too crowded there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of an epilogue to _If I Lose Myself (I Lose it All)_. I wanted to get this out because I've never felt finished with the first fic, so this is just future fic with the same characters, following their life as proper adults. 
> 
> Title from The Civil Wars' _Poison and Wine_
> 
> This work is unbeta'd, the only one who's been reading and editing is myself, so excuse any misspellings and the like. Please message me if you find any faults and I'll fix them!
> 
> Enjoy! x

_Together with their parents_

_Louis William Tomlinson_

_and_

_Elijah Kian Hill_

_invite you to join their wedding celebration_

_August 11, 2024_

_at two o’clock in the afternoon._

_Priory Cottages, Yorkshire._

_Reception to follow._

*****

_Harry and Milo_

_have chosen the first day of their new life together as Saturday the Eighteenth of June Two Thousand Twenty-Six._

_You are invited to share in their joy as they exchange marriage vows at five o’clock in the evening_

_Horniman Museum and Gardens, London._

_Reception to follow._

*****

_One little candle and one little cake_

_One very big day to celebrate!_

_Please join us for_

_Jack’s first birthday!_

_Saturday October 1_ _ st, _ _2028._

_One o’clock in the afternoon. St Philips Road, Surbiton._

_Please RSVP at 07700-900302 by September 24_ _ th _ _._

**Spring 2032.**

Harry closes the door behind him and leans against it. It’s quite dark in the cottage, and cold too. He arrived two hours ago and has spent the last hour and a half bringing in stuff from the car. The first thirty minutes were spent sitting in the garden with his bare feet in the grass, even though it’s only March. They used to spend their summers here, all of July and August, but it’s just Harry now. As it’s getting darker outside, Harry reaches up and grabs the matches from above him, crouching down in front of the fireplace to warm himself up. The fire lights up his face and it feels nice. For the first time in a long time, he feels content. This is his home now, and he loves it here. He sits there until his stomach grumbles loudly and he snorts out of surprise. It echoes in the quiet cottage and at once, Harry’s struck with how lonely he is. There aren’t many cottages or houses in the area and the few neighbours that do exist usually spend only their summers and Christmas there. It used to bother him, being alone and lonely, but it’s better now. He actually enjoys spending time by himself now, for a bit of quiet time or just sitting for hours writing and making mind maps for future projects. He reaches into the newly stocked pantry and takes out the ingredients for a simple Spaghetti Pomodoro. He’s leaning against the upper cupboards as the tomatoes simmer when it suddenly dawns on him. It’s just him now. He’s 38 and making pasta for one in a tiny cottage he bought with his husband. _Ex_ -husband. As he stirs the tomatoes, he thinks back to when he found the cottage. He had been browsing the web for a summer holiday when the cottage had popped up. Harry’s family has never been one for camping or renting a cottage on the countryside, but it’s always been there at the back of his mind. He had always seen himself decorating a small space with finds from farmers’ markets and garage sales. So, he’d clicked on the link and up came the small house looking like it was taken straight from _The Holiday_. Harry had convinced Milo that they’d at least go look at it and when they came back to their flat in London they did so with a significant dent in their wallets. It had been love at first sight. And thus, it had only been more than right for Harry to move out of the flat and in here. He didn’t mind at all. Here, he could write in peace and perhaps finally finish the manuscript he’s been working on for two years. It’s the perfect solution. Or so he keeps telling himself. 

He’s finishing up dinner when his mobile goes off. Wiping his fingers off on the napkin in his lap, he unlocks it and smiles as he’s met by a toothy grin. _Wish you were here Uncle Harry!_ the text reads and Harry runs a thumb over Jack’s Mickey Mouse ears. It’s a great picture, like all pictures of Jack are. He just radiates happiness and never fails to make Harry smile. He wishes he was there too, at Disneyland with his favourite boy, even though it’s always too crowded there. 

When he goes to bed that night, he pretends not to notice the nagging feeling of loneliness tugging at his heart. It’s better in daylight, he tries to reason, and closes his eyes, falling into a restless sleep. He’s never been good at sleeping alone. 

Harry wakes up to rain smattering against the windows. He lies in bed for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the downfall outside. The weather suits his mood perfectly. He stills feels sad about the divorce, even though it was a mutual decision, or more so his than Milo’s if he’s being honest. They had a happy marriage – honestly, they did – but suddenly they weren’t making an effort anymore. They stopped doing the big things together. And then, they didn’t do the little things either, like saying _I love you_ or kissing each other hello. It was no one’s fault. But still, they didn’t promise each other to stay friends or keep in touch. They just parted and that breaks Harry’s heart because when did they fall out of love with each other? Harry’s always been a firm believer in love and romance. But ever since he realised that the man sitting opposite him at the dinner table wasn’t the love of his life, he started questioning it. He remembers when he brought it up the first time and Milo laughed it off. _We’re fine_ , he’d said, _it’s winter, who doesn’t feel down?_ But Harry had felt down for four months and they hadn’t had sex for six, when he’d finally find the courage to talk to his husband. It had taken him two more times before Milo had understood that Harry wasn’t just feeling down because of the weather. He’d signed the divorce papers two days later. Harry cried himself to sleep for seven more.

His black Moleskine lays open in front of him. It contains all his ideas, and scribbles and notes, and has been his source of imagination for two years’ time. When the idea had come to him, he’d been editing another author’s manuscript. He’d been writing down ideas for years, but never enough to write something of his own. That’s what he’s still working on now. He wants to tell his story, but not in an obnoxious way or for his readers to pity him. He’s not interested in writing an autobiography, he’s not lived an interesting enough life for that. No one wants to read about the sad boy who grew up to live in a cottage by himself. Still, he wants to put his story out there to show young people that it’s okay to feel bad. It’s okay to not have been kissed when you’re 18 and starting university. It’s okay to feel lonely, because someday someone will come along and make you feel like the most special person in the world. It might not happen today, or tomorrow, but it will. Harry is living proof of that. So that’s what he writes. 

Being out in the woods must’ve done him good, because when a Skype call startles him, it’s already dark out. Milo installed a Wi-Fi connection right when they first bought it, said he couldn’t be isolated from the real world if they were to spend longer than a day out here, but it’s always been tricky to get it to work properly. Figuring it’s his mother or sister, he doesn’t spend much time looking at the icon before accepting the call. When the video finally connects, it’s not to one of his mum’s cats, or Gemma’s smirking face, but to the boy with the happiest face in the world.  
 “Uncle Harry!” Jack’s face is bobbing up and down, seemingly too excited to sit still in his father’s lap.  
 “Jackabean!” Harry calls out equally as excited. “How’s Disneyland?”  
 “Ohmigosh uncle Harry, it’s so cool. I metted Mickey Mouse today and Papa tooked a photo. Did you see it uncle Harry?” Harry grins and pushes the laptop away from him so he can lean on his elbows.  
 “I did see. Did Mickey give you his ears?” Jack throws his head back and laughs a big belly laugh, shaking his head like it’s the silliest thing he’s ever heard.  
 “No, silly uncle Harry! It was pretend ears.” Harry nods and slaps himself on the forehead which makes Jack laugh again.  
 “Of course they were. How silly of me to think they weren’t.” Harry smiles. “Tell me more about Disneyland.”  
 “We metted Winnie the Pooh and Piglet and Princess Jasmine and Princess Aurora and—” Jack interrupts himself and frowns, tapping his forehead with his index finger like he’s seen Winnie the Pooh do. Harry smiles fondly, waiting patiently. Jack reminds Harry of himself when he was little – always wanting to be the centre of attention and hurrying to say everything that’s on his mind, like he’s afraid someone will interrupt him before he’s finished telling his stories. He’s also the most caring and sweetest little boy ever, and he cries whenever he thinks someone is unhappy. He wears his heart on his sleeve, just like Harry always has done. He wishes with all his heart that he too had been able to have a child of his own, but Milo didn’t want to rush it. They had all the time in the world, he used to say. Who would take care of the baby if they wanted to travel to Bali for three months? It’s not too late now, Harry knows that, but he also knows how tough it is having a child of your own. He guesses Jack and his sister’s children will have to do for now. And that’s a soothing thought.  
 “Papa, who else did we see?” Jack asks, looking up at his father. The screen is tilted down so Harry only sees Jack’s face and Louis’ t-shirt, but as Jack speaks to his dad, he tilts up the screen to show Louis’ face too.  
 “Well,” Louis says and grins down at Jack. “Only the coolest two people ever. Robin Hood and Lil’ John!” Jack scrunches up his face and Harry has to laugh at that. It’s so obvious that Jack is Louis’ son. They have the same blue eyes and expressive faces, and Harry has always found it interesting how someone with such a pretty face could scrunch it up like an ugly little raisin that fast.  
 “Yeah, but those aren’t my _favourites_ ,” Jack sighs.  
 “Who are your favourites then, JackerJack?” Harry asks and Jack rolls his eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
 “Princess Ariel because she can swim _swoosh swoosh swoosh_.” He brings his palms together and sways his hand quickly back and forth in front of his chest. “And Winnie the Pooh because he is the nicest.”  
 “Yeah, and he reminds you of uncle Harry, doesn’t he?” Louis says and squeezes Jack around the middle affectionately.  
 “Hey, are you saying I’m round and yellow?” Harry pouts, and he has to force himself to keep his face as Louis locks their eyes together.  
 “No,” Louis chuckles. “I’m saying you’re kind and sweet and the best friend ever, right Jack?” Jack, who’s been playing car race with his hands stops immediately and nods fervently.  
 “Yeah! Uncle Harry is the bestest friend in the whole wide world! You’re my best friend, aren’t you uncle Harry?” And he looks at him with the roundest, bluest eyes Harry has ever seen. It’s the same eyes he’s never been able to say no to ever, not when he was 18, not now.  
 “Of course,” he says simply with a smile. “You’re the best Jackabean there is, of course we’re best friends.” 

Harry opens a new document when he goes to bed that night. He’s always been more creative after dark and tonight is no exception. His agent will most likely lose her mind when he doesn’t send in his finalised draft, but he can’t help it. When he gets in these moods, there’s nothing stopping him. His fingers fly over the keyboard and he can see the setting so clearly in front of him. He writes about a little boy with the biggest heart and the best friends. He writes about his adventures and courage and the monsters under the bed that makes him cry, but they’re only pretending to be scary and instead they eat the dust bunnies so he won’t have to clean underneath the bed. The hoover scares him. He names his character Jack and when the need to pee is too strong to ignore he saves the document and realises that it’s gone past 4 am. As he washes his hands he watches himself in the mirror. There are a few grey hairs along the darker ones and the circles under his eyes are almost as dark as they were when he was at his worst at 20. Divorce does that to you, apparently. Using his fingers to prod at different parts of his skin, he lets out a deep sigh. It’s too quiet in the cottage. There are no sirens going off outside or shouts from the alcoholic homeless men living down the pavement from his old kitchen window. There are no snores from the bedroom or buzzing from the fridge. Not even the cows are out in the meadow yet. He turns on the TV and falls asleep to the sounds of the news.

 

*******

 

It’s unseasonably warm for April. The sun’s out for once and Harry’s got all four windows rolled down. He’s been stuck in traffic for almost an hour and he’s already sung along to all the songs on his road trip playlist. Pushing his sunglasses up in his hair, he scrubs a hand over his face. He is supposed to be at his parents’ having lunch by now, and he’s only a half hour away which makes it even more annoying. Drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, the phone goes off in his lap. Usually he doesn’t bother with his mobile while driving, but he’s been standing still at the same spot for ten minutes now, so he guesses it won’t hurt. He clears his throat and unlocks the screen.

**Louis (13.22)**

_I need a favour. X_

**Harry (13.24)**

_Sure, anything .x_

Louis’ reply comes in an instant, right as the sleepy traffic wakes up and the cars in front of Harry starts moving.

**Louis (13.24)**

_Can you watch J for me on Saturday?_

**Harry (13.27)**

_Of course! Why? Hot date?_

He’s teasing, but there’s still kind of an ache in his heart when he types the words. He knows it shouldn’t matter, that he should be over Louis by now, but he can’t help it. Even though both Harry and Louis were married for a long time, Harry thinks his heart always belonged to Louis. And deep down he’s allowed himself to think that Louis might feel the same way. They just miss each other. If it’s not Louis having a boyfriend, it’s Harry marrying someone, and then Louis married and now they’re finally single at the same time. That’s why he feels like he’s heart has fallen down to his toes, or so he tells himself.

 

**Louis (13.35)**

_I don’t know about hot, but yeah._

 

Harry tries to smile. They’re soulmates, he knows it, can feel it in his heart. And soulmates are meant to be together.

The door flies open and his mother rushes out of the house before Harry has even put his car in park. She smiles at him when he gets out and doesn’t last a second before wrapping him up in a tight hug.   
 “Hi baby boy,” she says and kisses his cheek. Harry would roll his eyes if he didn’t love the endearment so much. But, alas. He’s always been a mummy’s boy anyway.  
 “Everything all right, Mum?” he asks and hoists his brown bag over his shoulder.  
 “Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” she says hurriedly and brushes away invisible lint off his clothes, making him jump away from her touch. “Are you hungry, my love? You must be starving, you missed lunch! Was traffic really that bad? Do you want some tea?” Harry laughs as he follows his mother into the house and closes the door behind him. Inside, there’s a loud ruckus from the sitting room and the hallway is filled with little pink shoes.  
 “Is Gemma here already? I thought she wasn’t coming until tomorrow.”  
 “Oh yeah, they came in early. Lovely, isn’t it?” Mum calls from the kitchen. “You go in there and I’ll bring you something to eat, darling.” 

His sister is bouncing his niece on her knee when he walks into the living room. Charlie is sitting in front of the TV, up close as if to miss Phineas and Ferb’s mischief.   
 “Charlie, honey, please come sit here next to Mummy. You’ll hurt your eyes.”  
 “No.” Charlie says with the sheer determination only six year olds possess. Gemma sighs and opens her mouth to tell her son off, when Harry swoops in and grabs Charlie by the armpits.  
 “Listen to your mother!” He mock-growls and pretends to munch at his nephew’s neck as he lifts him up. Charlie squeals and kicks his legs out.  
 “Uncle Harry! You’re tickling me.” He shrieks of laughter as Harry keeps attacking his face with kisses.  
 “It’s because I love you the most,” Harry says as they sit down on the floor.  
 “More than Lizzie and Ruthie?” Charlie lisps with big eyes. Harry pretends to think about it for a second, hearing his sister chuckle under her breath from the sofa.  
 “Maybe a little bit,” Harry relents after a while. “But only because you’re a boy. Boys are better than girls, aren’t they?” Charlie stands up between Harry’s legs and nods fervently.  
 “Girls are yucky and full of germs.” Harry and Gemma laugh out loud. Charlie looks at them curiously before settling to watch _Phineas and Ferb_ again.  
 “Where’s your sister, Charlie?” Harry asks, poking his hip. Charlie swats as his hand irritably and doesn’t move his eyes away from the telly.  
 “Right there,” he says and points his thumb over his shoulder at his mother.  
 “Not that one, silly,” Harry smiles and pokes him again. “Where’s Lizzie?”  
 “Oh,” Charlie sighs. “With her boyfriend.” Harry whips his head around to Gemma and gapes.  
 “Lizzie has a boyfriend?” Gemma smirks. “Since when? Who is he? How old is he?”  
 “Why don’t you ask her at dinner? She should be here by then.”  
 “I just might,” Harry mutters and turns back to watch the kid show at Charlie’s exclaim.

As his eldest niece walks in through the door, Harry makes sure to be the first person she meets. Dinner is almost ready, the scent of Sunday roast surrounding them like a thick fog. She grabs her chest when she sees him standing silently by the dresser.  
 “You’re such a creep, oh my god.”  
 “Excuse you,” he says and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m not the one sneaking around with boyfriends behind my uncle’s back.” Lizzie rolls her eyes and hangs up her coat. She tucks her hair behind her ear and leans down to untie her shoes.  
 “Don’t roll your eyes at me young lady. I’m hurt,” Harry says, over-dramatically he’ll admit, and clutches his shirt tight over his heart.  
 “Can’t this wait until after dinner, uncle Harry? I wanna say hi to Grandma and Grandpa.” Harry waves his hand dismissively in the air and turns around. He can hear Elizabeth sigh behind him, and smiles.

Harry ends up staying longer than he planned at his parents’ house. It gets lonely in his cottage and he’s glad for the company. Elizabeth spills the details of her relationship right after dinner on Sunday and he’s happy for her. She’s a lot like him, his niece, and he only wants the best for her. She tells her about being in love for the first time and about the night she lost her virginity because she’s always told Harry everything. He only tells her to be careful with her heart, since it’s her first relationship and lets her know (for the millionth time) that he’ll always be there when she needs to talk or simply take a break. He even gets to meet the boy two days into their stay. It’s midterm, so the kids and Gemma are staying the whole week, and Elizabeth’s boyfriend manages to take a couple of days off work to meet the family. He’s genuinely nice; exactly what his Lizzie needs and deserves – brings her out of her shell and makes her laugh so hard tears are rolling down her cheeks. So yes, Harry likes him. He goes to the park with Charlie and Ruth, spends hours watching Charlie climbing the jungle gym and walks protectively underneath him when he rushes across the monkey bars as Ruth sleeps in her pram, and pushes her in the swings when she’s not. It’s nice and he can’t help but wish this was everyday life. He and Gemma talk about it a lot during the evenings after the kids and their parents are asleep, and Lizzie is off with her boyfriend somewhere.   
 “You could always adopt,” Gemma suggests. “That was an option before with Milo as well, but you could do it on your own too.” Harry smiles sadly and picks at a loose thread on his sock.  
 “Yeah, maybe,” he says quietly and clears his throat. They sit quietly for a couple of minutes before he announces, “I’m going to bed.”  
 “Love you, H,” his sister says and kisses his cheek. She looks sad and he hates that it’s on his behalf. He doesn’t want his sister to be sad for him. He’s fine. It’s not like he _needs_ children because he’s got his nieces and nephew, and, on occasion, Jack.  
 “Love you too, Gems.”

April keeps getting warmer. As Harry hoovers the living room, he feels sweat dripping down his temples and down his neck. All the windows are open, but it’s almost hotter outside than inside. The fridge is newly stocked with food he knows Jack loves, and there are freshly washed sheets on the guest bed. Harry even bought them water guns from the garden center on his way back from his parents. He knows he’s overdone it, always does when he’s babysitting, but he really loves it. Louis and Jack aren’t due for another half hour, so Harry puts the hoover away and walks to the bathroom to take a shower. When they had bought the cottage, the bathroom came only with a bathtub. Harry found it romantic and relaxing, Milo found it extremely stressful and installed a shower head after two weeks of them owning it. He takes his time washing his hair and body, relishing in the way the water washes away the dust and sweat from his body. The cottage will probably be as untidy and dusty as it was before when Louis picks Jack up tomorrow, but a tidy home is a tidy mind. Harry wants to show off his best behaviour. He still wants to impress Louis as much as he did when they were younger. 

He’s just putting his t-shirt over his head when there’s a knock on the door. He can hear Jack’s excitement through the door and can’t help but smile as he opens it.   
 “JackerJack!” he exclaims and throws his arms out, crouching down just in time to catch Jack and his stuffed dog.  
 “Uncle Harry!” Jack shouts in his ear and leaves a big kiss on his cheek. “I brung Cuddles.”  
 “Ah, yes, I see you brought Cuddles,” Harry corrects subtly and looks up at Louis. “Hey Lou.”  
 “Hi, H. How are you?”  
 “Good thanks,” he says as he stands up straight. “Do you wanna come in, I could put on the kettle?” But Louis lifts a hand and shakes his head.  
 “I should get going,” he says. “Here’s Jack’s bag.” He hands over a small _Dora the Explorer_ rucksack and Harry lets it dangle in front of him as Louis kneels to hug and kiss Jack goodbye.  
 “Be good to uncle Harry, all right?” Jack rolls his eyes.  
 “Duh,” he says, making both Louis and Harry chuckle. Louis kisses Jack again.  
 “I love you, baby.”  
 “Loviyou, papa.” Jack grabs hold of Harry’s hand as they wave at Louis driving off. He’s clutching Cuddles in one hand and looks up at Harry when they can’t see Louis’ car anymore.  
 “What now?”  
 “I’ve got water guns. Do you wanna play?” Harry swears he sees stars in Jack’s eyes as he gasps and jumps up and down, nodding. Harry smiles and nods along.  
 “Yeah? Go wait for me in the kitchen and I’ll bring them after I’ve put this by your bed, all right?” Jack’s off like a shot, but waits patiently by the back door. Harry fills the water guns by the hose and hands one of them over to Jack.  
 “All right Jackabean, it’s you against me. Play fair or no pudding tonight!” Harry barely finishes talking before Jack aims and shoots water right in his face, throwing his head back in laughter at Harry’s splutters. 

They eat dinner in front of the TV. Jack insisted that they’d watch _The Little Mermaid_ even though he ends up in Harry’s lap when Ursula shows up.  
 “She’s a meanie,” Jack whispers around his fingers. Harry nods and reaches up to pry Jack’s fingers out of his mouth.  
 “I know, sweets.” He cuddles him closer and kisses his hair. “I don’t like her either.”  
 “Why her skin purple, uncle Harry?” Jack asks and twists around. Harry purses his lips and tilts his head.  
 “Good question, Jack. I think it’s because she’s an octopus, right, and her ink makes her skin purple.” He looks down at Jack. “What do you think?”  
 “Um, yeah! I think so also.” 

Harry makes sure Jack’s fully asleep before he sneaks out of the guestroom, leaving the door ajar in case of emergencies. Jack had convinced Harry to read far more books than Harry had intended, but he couldn’t get mad at Jack even if he wanted to. So, after he’d read five chapters out of _Winnie-the-Pooh_ , he’d had to convince Jack to leave the last two chapters for him and Papa tomorrow. He finds himself on the sofa again after cleaning up in the kitchen and lounge. The door to the garden is wide open, even though the cold is creeping in now that the sun’s set. His mind wanders to Louis. Throughout his marriage with Milo, Harry felt as if he’d settled. He had loved Milo, but it had never been that burning hot feeling like when he was young and followed Louis around like a lost puppy. With Louis, it felt like he was on fire, and after him, everything had seemed bland. He had thought his and Milo’s relationship had been full of passion, and it had been to some extent. When they met, Milo was cocky and dismissive, but Harry had found him incredibly sexy with his dark hair and dark eyes. They had started out as some kind of friends with benefits, without the friends part. After a while, Harry had found himself looking for different item of clothes in his flat, only to find them in Milo’s, and they’d decided to call their relationship out for what it was and move in together. The passion had started to die out then, and now Harry lets him admit that they weren’t made to be a couple, even though he wouldn’t allow himself to think like that when they were together. It stressed them out, living together. They weren’t made for it, and Milo was certainly not made for living with another person. He kept telling Harry he needed space, and could spend days at his old flat instead of falling asleep and waking up to Harry. When Milo had spent more days in his old flat than with Harry, Harry had brought up divorce for the first time. He knows Louis and his husband had been separated for two years already when Harry’d moved into the cottage. He understands why Louis would try to find someone new to date, because being a single father must be exhausting. He just wishes Louis would open his eyes and realise that Harry is right in front of him, single and still as smitten as he’s always been.

 “Uncle Harry?” Harry hums and turns to his side, eyes still closed. Judging by the darkness still behind his eyes, it’s too early to wake up.  
 “Uncle Harry, wake please. I hadded an accident.” Hearing Jack’s sobs, Harry’s eyes fly open and he’s met with a shaking Jack in wet pyjama bottoms. He inhales deeply and sits up, rubbing a hand over his face.  
 “Did you wet the bed, sweetheart?” he whispers, and clears his throat from lack of use. Jack sniffs and nods, using one of Cuddles paws to wipe at his eyes. Harry smiles.  
 “That’s all right, baby. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He gets out of bed and grabs Jack by his armpits, lifting him up and carrying him to the bathroom. Murmuring words of encouragement to the devastated boy in front of him, he kneels to peel off the wet bottoms and pants, and grabs a wet flannel to wipe at his legs.  
 “There we go,” Harry says quietly. “Let’s find a new pair of pants and then you can sleep in my bed. How does that sound?” Still sniffling, Jack nods and lets himself be carried and be treated like a little baby boy. If the circumstances were different, Harry is sure he wouldn’t be allowed to carry Jack, but it’s the middle of the night, and he just had an accident in a bed that wasn’t his own. 

Louis joins them for lunch the next day. He doesn’t talk about his date, and Harry doesn’t ask. It’s Jack who keeps up conversation, talking about what Harry and he did last night between bites of chicken fingers.   
 “And- and then, papa, then I shot Uncle Harry right in the face and his mouth did this.” Jack gapes and widens his eyes to imitate Harry, and Louis snorts into his water glass.  
 “But then I got water in my eyes and I cried but Harry cuddled me so it was all betters.” Louis smiles, first at his son and then at Harry and Harry has to look down, but he smiles too.  
 “Sound like you had the best weekend, sweets. I’m sad I missed it.” He’s still looking at Harry when he says that and Harry can feel all the butterflies in his tummy.

*******

 

Two months alone in his little cottage and Harry is getting stir crazy. He’s invited his friends or sister to have dinner almost every weekend, but they have their own lives as well. His sister had sighed at him through the phone one night when he’d practically begged for her to come over, and almost yelled at him to “get a dog or something, you hate being alone!” He can’t say he hasn’t thought about it before, but Milo hadn’t wanted a dog, just like he hadn’t wanted children. He kept blaming it on allergy, even though he knew Harry knew he grew up with animals.

Harry’s been an avid Googler for ages. He’s always been the quickest whipping up his mobile in discussions about how often you should wash your hair or to check how tall Dev Patel is. He’s also been known to follow so many dog accounts on Instagram that they’ve started to follow him back even though he’s neither a dog or owns one. In his downtime (and since living alone, he’s had a lot of it), he likes to browse the internet for breeders or rescues. So, when he scrolls Instagram before falling asleep one night, he comes face to face with a fluffy faced puppy whose mother is a rescue of her own. He can’t seem to take his eyes off the puppy, and immediately clicks on the link to the website. It’s way past midnight when he turns the lights off, but he falls asleep with a smile and a carefully written email sent off to the rescue centre. 

It takes another week after visiting the puppy before she can come home with him. Intentionally, she was supposed to sit on the floor in the passenger seat, but she ends up sleeping in his lap during the last hour after crying for ages. He knows he should mind, but he loves it. She gets too excited when he pulls up on the driveway, and pees on his jeans. Looking at her cute little face, he can’t even bring himself to be upset. 

All night, she follows him around. He snickers to himself on more than one occasion when he refers to her as a lost puppy, amused by the irony. After dinner, when she literally sat on his foot, he brings his wine bottle over to the telly and turns it on. He lifts her up on the sofa beside him and almost spills wine all over himself and the dog when she climbs onto his lap. Flicking through the channels on the telly, he sees his phone flashing from his peripheral. Settling on some film where some girl is crying her eyes out, he leans sideways to grab his phone, careful not to spill or wake the puppy. It’s Louis’ name flashing on the screen, which is weird, because it’s ten on a Thursday night and they hardly ever talk that late on a weekday. Especially not on the phone. Swallowing, he quickly swipes right before Louis hangs up.  
 “Hello?” Silence. Harry brings the phone from his ear to his face to make sure Louis didn’t hang up, but the call is still going.  
 “Louis? Are you there?” A cough. A sniffle. And then  
 “Yeah, sorry! Wasn’t expecting you to pick up.” He hears shuffling, and the background that was buzzing with muffled talking suddenly goes silent.  
 “Well, you called. Of course I was gonna answer,” Harry says, and he smiles even though Louis can’t see him. The line goes silent again, and maybe Louis is nodding, but Harry stays quiet as well until Louis speaks up.  
 “So I was wondering if you could watch Jack for me again this weekend.” Harry opens his mouth to respond, but Louis beats him to it. “I know it wasn’t long since you babysat him, but Dan can’t make it, and everyone else is busy or out of the country, and I know how much Jack loves spending time with you and—”  
 “Louis,” Harry interrupts before Louis goes on. “Of course I’ll watch him, I love spending time with him too.” He hears Louis let out a sigh of relief. “Can I ask why though?”  
 “Oh,” Louis says, and he sounds like a deflated balloon, Harry thinks. “I just have to work this weekend, that’s all.” Harry frowns and puts his glass on the coffee table to refill it.  
 “You never work weekends.” Louis coughs again.  
 “I know. I just… I need the money. Jack needs new shoes, and a new rucksack for school.” And okay, Harry understands how hard it must be to be a single parent, especially to a little boy who grows every day and needs new clothes and food and a school uniform and toys and everything else a five-year-old could possibly need. But Louis has never spoken about money before, especially not about being short on them. Harry can’t help but worry.  
 “What about Elijah?” he asks. Louis scoffs.  
 “What about him?” Harry clears his throat. He doesn’t want to meddle, not really, but if Jack needs new shoes and Louis can’t afford them, then what about Jack’s other father?  
 “Well, why doesn’t he pay for new shoes?” Louis laughs out loud then. It’s an ugly laugh, bitter and dark.  
 “Elijah hasn’t payed child support in three months, but if he wants to buy his son some new shoes, I’ll be more than happy to let him.”  
 “Lou—”  
 “Look”, Louis interrupts quickly. “I appreciate you babysitting Jack. I’ll drop him off on Saturday morning.” Harry looks down on his wine swirling in his glass. He wants to ask more questions, make sure Louis and Jack are all right, wants to yell at Elijah for being a shit ex-husband. Instead of doing any of that though, and annoying Louis, he downs the last of his wine and agrees.  
 “See you Saturday, Louis. Tell Jack hi from me,” he says before hanging up and resumes watching the shit film whilst petting the puppy’s soft head. She stirs and lifts her head to glare at him for waking him up, but settles as soon as he starts humming _Songbird_ under his breath.  
 “Little Birdie,” he mumbles as the puppy closes her eyes and lets out a sigh of content.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't quite as long as I originally planned, but I divided it into two parts instead. So instead of this being a two-chapter story, it'll have three chapters. 
> 
> It's unbeta'd and only semi-proof read by myself, but I wanted to get it out quickly since it's been forever since I posted the first chapter.
> 
> Edit: I'm back on Tumblr! Find me [here](http://livvybwrites.tumblr.com/) and be my friend please.
> 
> Yeah, just enjoy and let me know what you think!

He wakes up to kisses all over his face. Without opening his eyes, he can feel the smirk on his skin as the mouth travels south, nipping at his collarbones and ghosting over his nipples. He hums happily and peaks his eyes open just in time for Louis to peel his pants down and kiss the inside of his thighs. He clears his throat and tries to act unbothered, but he can hear his breaths quicken, and it’s very tempting to let his eyes fall shut again.   
 “Morning,” he croaks and arches his back when Louis drags his teeth teasingly over the bruise he just sucked into Harry’s groin.  
 “Morning, my love,” Louis says before licking up Harry’s hard cock and taking him in his mouth. Harry closes his eyes and opens them again in surprise as Louis sucks hard.  
  
Except— it isn’t Louis sucking him off that forces his eyes open. It’s Birdie and her loud bark. Louis isn’t even there, and he’s never been, because this is Harry’s house and Louis doesn’t live here. Harry lets out a frustrated groan and rubs his hands over his face. He hasn’t dreamt of Louis and him together in ages, and he glares at Birdie when she barks again from the open door.  
 “As if I’m giving you any breakfast now, you rude dog,” he mutters, but sits up nevertheless and throws the sheets off his body.  
 “Come on then,” he calls over his shoulder as he passes her.  
  
The kitchen is freezing as he sits down and waits for the kettle to boil. It shouldn’t be, especially not after that hot spring. but as he looks out, the clouds look grey and heavy with rain. Perfect day for writing, he supposes, and he should get going on those finishing touches and send it off to his editor. It’s not long until publishing day, just a week actually, and Harry’s been itching to ask Louis to come with him to the release party. Preferably as his date. Just the thought of it makes his stomach turn. He feels like a teenager again, filled to the brim with nerves. He doesn’t actually think Louis would say no to a weekend in London, but maybe he would when Harry tells him about the restaurant he’s made reservations to the night before the party.  
  
The first time Harry almost asked him was on a Sunday. Jack had spent the weekend whilst Louis was working, and when Louis had arrived, he’d looked so exhausted Harry all but forced him to stay for dinner. He’d been working up the courage to tell him all night, but Jack had stolen the show as usual by telling a story about their weekend that was about 10 % truth and 90 % make-believe. He’d almost asked again when Louis and Jack were about to leave, but he’d chickened out. Typical.  
  
The second time Harry almost asked him was over the phone last week. He’d just been about to ask when Jack had called out in panic for Louis and they’d had to hung up before Harry had managed to get the first syllable out. He loves that kid, but he’s the worst cockblocker on earth.  
  
Which leads Harry to have a few days left to his own release party and he hasn’t got a date yet. And that would be fine, wasn’t it for the fact that Harry would love to have Louis by his side when they’re all toasting and celebrating him. He would love to take Louis out and have a nice, kid-free time with him, and maybe even kiss him. Harry’s been thinking about kissing Louis a lot lately.  
  
As the kettle whistles on the stove, Harry makes up his mind. Today is the day he’s asking Louis to come with him to London. So he grabs his mobile as he waits for the tea to steep and looks down at Birdie.  
 “I’m doing it Birdie. Wish me luck.” She answers him with a yelp and gets up on her hind legs, resting her front paws on Harry’s thigh, as if urging him to get on with it. Harry pats her head and lets her lick his fingers, unlocking his phone with his free hand. He types and retypes his message four times before sending it off. He immediately sets the phone face down on the table top and blows on his tea for it to cool down a bit as he waits.  
  
**Harry (8.43)**

 _I know it’s late, but do you wanna come to my release party in London this weekend?_  
  
He probably should’ve called, because he really can’t stand waiting around for Louis’ reply, but he also can’t stand a no over the phone. As he waits, he tries not to get his hopes up, since that’s the thing that always lets him down. Instead, he eats his breakfast and pointedly doesn’t look at his phone again until he’s out of the shower and moisturised from head to toe. He’s sliding some jeans on when his mobile goes off and he glances at it in disappointment when it’s just his editor heckling him about his plus one.  
 “I’m on it!” he all but shouts in frustration, accidentally waking up the dozing dog. He pets her head in apology and lets out an annoyed sigh as he takes his laptop under his arm and heads to his make-shift office in the kitchen. His frustration is a bit much, he’s the first to admit, but he’s more frustrated with himself than anyone else. If it weren’t for him and his cowardice, he would’ve had asked Louis earlier, he would’ve had gotten a reply sooner, and his editor wouldn’t nag him about the plus one Harry had asked for. He puts his phone on ’Do Not Disturb’ and opens up _Scrivener_ to read through the notes his editor sent him the day before.  
  
The shrill sound of his ringtone is what forces Harry to resurface. He rubs his eyes free of the constant glaring light of his laptop and answers his phone with a yawn.  
 “Hello?” The reply comes with laughter.  
 “Are you napping? Thought you were a bit past that, Harry,” says Louis and immediately Harry perks up. This is it, he’s decided. Depending on Louis’ answer, Harry would let him go, he promises. If Louis doesn’t want to come with him to London, then Harry would try to move on. For real this time. He belatedly realises he hasn’t said anything, and clears his throat.  
 “No,” he lets out an awkward chuckle. “No, I was just working. Sorry.”  
 “Don’t apologise, love, I was just teasing. You’re allowed as many naps as you want.” Louis’ still teasing, Harry can tell by just the tone of his voice, and he opens his mouth to come up with a retort, but Louis beats him to it.  
 “Actually, I’m in a bit of a rush, so I’m just calling to let you know I can’t come to London with you.” And, well. Harry can literally feel his heart plummeting down his stomach, and he closes his eyes. He’d really hoped Louis would come with him.  
 “It’s just that it’s a bit short notice to find someone to babysit Jack,” Louis continues, and Harry can feel the knot in his chest grow.  
 “You know I’d love to, H, and I’m so proud of you, but—”  
 “Bring him,” Harry interrupts. He closes his eyes at his eagerness. Maybe Louis only used Jack as an excuse, there’s probably a bunch of people who can watch Jack for him, and he’s just trying to let Harry down gently. And okay, maybe Jack doesn’t exactly fit into Harry’s plans, but he’ll have to think of something else. Maybe instead of going to that posh Indian place, he can book a table at Mc Donalds. Maybe—  
 “Are you sure? Won’t he just be in the way?” And, hold on a minute. Does this mean Louis’ agreeing?  
 “Of course I’m sure! I mean, it’s a children’s book, and he’s a child, so, really, he’d be the perfect guest,” Harry says, almost begging at this point, and if that doesn’t show his want for Louis to be with him, he doesn’t know what else. Louis hums in consideration. Harry decides to pull out the big guns, lowering his voice in an attempt to be sexy. Or at least enticing.  
 “I’d really love it if you came, Lou.” He can hear Louis sigh, defeated.  
 “All right. But I’m driving.” Harry smiles, hope bubbling up inside him like a newly opened bottle of champagne.  
 “Deal.”

 

*****

 

Harry’s nodding along to whatever one of his author colleagues’ is talking about, but he’s only got eyes for Louis. Louis, who’s standing there looking beautiful in his dark navy suit and white crisp shirt. Louis, who’s pointing out all the different writers in the room for Jack, who’s watching them all with big eyes. He looks like a little grown-up in his shirt and tie, apparently he’d insisted on looking nice for Harry’s party.  
 “Excuse me,” he says, probably interrupting whatever the other man was talking about. He shoulders his way through the crowded room and crouches down behind Jack. Without a word, he places his hands over the boy’s eyes and presses his lips together as to not laugh at Jack’s gasp.  
 “Let me go!” Jack shouts, a little panicked. “Papa! Help me!” Harry snorts then, and spins Jack around. Jack’s mouth falls open.  
 “Naughty Uncle Harry,” he accuses and folds his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that again please.” Harry bites the inside of his cheek as to not laugh at the little boy in front of him.  
 “I’m sorry Jacky-jack. I just wanted to play with you. This party is a little boring isn’t it?” Jack starts nodding fervently, seemingly forgetting about being upset with Harry.  
 “There isn’t even a cake,” Jack says, throwing his arms out. “I’m sorry Uncle Harry, but you is not very good at having parties.” Harry does laugh then, and stands up, lifting Jack up with him.  
 “I think you’re right. You’ll have to help me next time, won’t you?”  
 “Yup, that will probably be best.” Harry sneaks a look over Jack’s head then, at Louis, who looks like he’s completely forgotten about his conversation. He’s got a weird look on his face, almost distant, so Harry mouths _what’s wrong?_ , and frowns when Louis shakes his head with a small smirk.  
 “Now tell me, Mister Jack, how hungry are you?” Immediately, Jack throws his arms out to his side, stretching his fingers as far as he can reach. Harry widens his eyes.  
 “Wow! That hungry? We’ll probably have to go find you some dinner then, won’t we?” Jack nods.  
 “Yeah! I want pizza Uncle Harry,” he says and leans forward to pinch Harry’s nose.  
 “All right.” Jack lets out a loud cackle at Harry’s nasal voice. “Ask your papa if he wants pizza, and we’ll get out of here.”  
  
It’s late when they get back to the hotel, way past Jack’s bed time, and he’s clinging on Harry’s back in a way that kind of hurt Harry’s hips, but it doesn’t even matter, because this is the happiest Harry’s been in a long time. It’s been one of the best nights of his life, having dinner with Louis and Jack, even though Jack smeared his pizza-covered hands all over Harry’s suit jacket.  
 “Jack, baby, let go of Harry, we need to get you in bed, love,” Louis says, and he’s smiling, he’s smiling Harry’s favourite smile — showing off all his teeth and making his eyes crinkle. He’s beautiful, and that’s just not the wine talking.  
 “No! Wanna play with Uncle Harry!” He squeezes his arms tighter around Harry’s neck. Harry reaches up to pry Jack’s little hands off of him, and ruffles his hair when Jack’s two feet are on the floor.  
 “Hey, if you’re good to your papa and go to bed now, we’ll have all day to play tomorrow.”  
 “Promise?” Jack raises his eyebrows challengingly. Harry squats down and holds his little finger out.  
 “Pinky promise,” he says and smiles when Jack hooks his small finger in his. They both look up when Louis clears his throat.  
 “All right, buddy, in you go. Teeth and pj’s, go go.” Jack rolls his eyes and hugs Harry tightly.  
 “Good night, Uncle Harry,” he says before running into the bathroom. Harry gets up and raises his arms up to stretch out his back, wincing at the loud cracks. He’s about to turn to leave for his own hotel room next door, when he feels Louis’ hand grab his elbow.  
 “Harry?” Harry licks his lips and swallows once before answering.  
 “Yeah?”  
 “I had a great time tonight,” Louis says, and Harry’s about 80 per cent sure he can see a blush on Louis’ cheeks. “I, um, know Jack can be a bit much, and it wasn’t— wasn’t really a child friendly event, so, thank you.” Harry shrugs his shoulders, lifting one of the corners of his mouth in a half-smile.  
 “It’s not a big deal. I wanted you there.” Louis chuckles, shaking his head.  
 “It is a big deal. It’s your book! You could’ve asked anyone. Why us?” Harry widens his eyes. This man standing in front of him looks nothing like the Louis he knows. His friend Louis is bold, and confident, and sexy. This Louis seems almost— almost bashful, and insecure. It would be unsettling, but Harry feels kind of endeared by it. Louis’ human after all. Of course, Harry knows that, knows about Louis’ faults and bad habits, but this is something else. It’s— sweet. Harry shrugs again.  
 “I wanted you there,” he repeats. He can’t think of another reason to tell Louis. They’re standing really close now. Harry doesn’t really know how that happened, but he likes it. He can see every single colour in Louis’ blue eyes, every small freckle and birthmark on his face. Louis’ smiling now, a small one that makes him look a little cocky and sweet at the same time. Harry flicks his eyes from his blue eyes to his pink lips. If he were to lean forward just a little bit right now, he could kiss Louis. And he wants to, boy does he want to. He’s a little nervous though. They lock eyes again, and Louis makes Harry’s decision for him. He leans forward, and Harry closes his eyes, thinking _this is it_ , when—  
 “Paaaaapaaaa! Papa, wanna story!” Louis lets out a breathy laugh and rests his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. He groans, and pushing himself off of Harry and takes a step back.  
 “Papa! Can you hear me?!”  
 “Coming, baby,” Louis shouts back, eyes not leaving Harry’s. He smiles in that sly way of his. “Night, Harry.” He leans in quickly to peck Harry’s cheek before closing the door behind him to take care of his son.  
 “Night,” Harry whispers uselessly at the closed door, right cheek burning.

 

*****

 

Harry’s freaking out, and he’s sure Birdie can tell. She’s been barking non-stop for 20 minutes, and he stopped telling her to shut up fifteen minutes ago. Apparently, Louis hadn’t forgotten about what happened in the hallway down in London (and Harry certainly hadn’t, he’d been replaying the moment over and over again, even fantasising about what could’ve had happened next weren’t it for Jack’s shouting). It’d taken a couple of weeks, but then Louis had called him and asked if he wanted to go out to dinner. Which is why Harry’s freaking out even though he’s almost 40 years old. Birdie barks again and buffs his hand.   
 “I know Bird, I’m being an idiot.” He turns to her and holds up two different shirts. “Which one?” he asks, because he’s not ashamed of asking his dog for advice even though he’s caught her licking her bum right before eating her dinner several times. She barks once, making him pull the light blue billowy one off its hanger and try it on. He sways from side to side in front of the mirror to check himself out.  
 “I don’t know, Birdie, doesn’t this feel a little too 80s to you?” He laughs out loud as soon as he says it, feeling like the female character in _102 Dalmatians_ talking to his dog like this. He spins around to look at himself from the back.  
 “I guess it looks all right. If he doesn’t like it,” he swirls around and points at Birdie, one hand on his hips. “I’m blaming you.” He takes it off again, walking into his bathroom to look through the cabinet.  
 “Deodorant, moisturiser, eye cream, cologne,” he mutters to himself, a side effect of living alone and spend all day talking to a dog. One spritz each on his wrists, one under his jaw and one on the back of his neck. He read somewhere cologne does well on the neck because of the sweat glands. He’s trying his hardest tonight, hasn’t tried this hard for anyone in forever. He can’t help but feel a little stupid, dressing up like this. Perhaps the almost-kiss was just a spur of the moment, and Louis’ more comfortable being just friends. Harry feels a bit silly now, but tries to shake it off. Again, he’s almost 40 years old. He should be rid of these insecure feelings by now. Isn’t that what everyone says? When you’re reaching 40, you stop obsessing over every detail of your looks and brain? Maybe it doesn’t start until your actual 40th birthday. He’s still got a couple of years of insecurities then. Whoopie-fucking-do.  
  
Just as Harry’s trying to fix his hair for the umpteenth time, the door bell rings. Birdie runs from his side, straight to the door, and starts barking like a maniac. Harry looks over mid fluff before hurrying after his dog, and pushes her away from the door with his foot. He takes a deep breath, shaking his shoulders to loosen up, before opening the door. He’s met, not with Louis, but with a huge bouquet of flowers. It’s a nice summer explosion of pinks and yellows and reds. Definitely a date then. Thank God.  
 “Hi,” he hears from the other side of the bouquet.  
 “Hi,” Harry replies with a breathy chuckle. “What’s this?” Louis’ head pops up behind the flowers, a big grin on his face.  
 “These are for you. I, um, couldn’t remember which ones were your favourites, so I chose, like, all of them.” Harry grabs the flowers from Louis, bringing them up to his nose to smell them.  
 “They’re lovely. Thank you.” Louis doesn’t say anything, just smiles and rocks backwards and forwards on his feet. “I’ll just get these in water and then we’ll go, all right? Just— come in.” Harry starts walking backwards to the kitchen, cursing under his breath when he bumps into the wall. He holds up two fingers and tries to hide his blush with the flowers. “Two seconds.” With that, he turns around to put the bouquet in a vase. Just as he turns off the faucet, he hears the tell-tale sign of Birdie’s nails on the hardwood floor.  
 “Oh no,” he groans and hurries back out to Louis. “Watch out, she’s—” Harry is about to shout, but stops dead in his tracks when Louis raises to full height, hands brushing off his trousers. “—shedding. I’m sorry, she’s shedding fur everywhere, and I told her to stay put, but, yeah, I’m so sorry for your trousers, let me—” He stops rambling when he hears Louis laugh. It’s a big laugh, and when Harry looks up at his face, it confirms his suspicions of seeing Louis’ eyes squinted into almost nothingness, and two rows of perfect white teeth peeking though his lips. Despite himself, Harry laughs too. He laughs until he has to wipe his eyes from tears, and he realises that he hasn’t laughed this hard (for nothing) in ages. It’s a nice feeling. Better than nice actually, but he can’t come up with any more suitable words (so much for a writer, huh.)  
  
Louis takes him to a nice restaurant. It’s a proper date restaurant as well, from what Harry can tell. There are ladies in pretty dresses who rubs their feet up their dates’ legs, and smart looking men trying to act unbothered. The details aren’t that important, however, not when Harry’s sweating in the passenger seat of Louis’ car on their way home. The date had gone swimmingly, they’d had such a great time, and Harry had not once felt uncomfortable. Not until Louis closed the door for him and walked around the car to the driver’s seat. Now, his mind is racing a hundred miles an hour. Is the date over? Should he invite Louis to stay? Would Louis want to stay, maybe he wants to get back to Jack. Technically, it’s only their first date, but they’ve known each other forever, and it feels like their whole friendship has lead up to this point. When Louis pulls up in front of Harry’s house, he turns in his seat and opens his mouth, but whatever he tried to say gets interrupted by Harry.  
 “Do you wanna come inside?” he rushes out before he can change his mind (again). Louis looks at him for what feels forever, mouth still hanging open. Harry can feel his cheeks redden.  
 “You don’t have to of course, it’s late, and you probably wanna get back to Jack.” Louis smiles.  
 “Harry—”  
 “Do you wanna come inside?” Harry really wants Louis to come inside now. Which is why it feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest when Louis silently nods.  
  
It’s hot in the room and there are two forgotten glasses of wine on the living room table. Harry feels the hairs on his back rise from the light morning breeze coming in from the window. His eyes are closed, but he smiles, and feels happier than he’s had for a while. Light snores are coming from the left of him, and he turns his head on the pillow to take a sneak on the love of his life lying next to him. He flinches at his own thought. Love of his life? He mulls it over for a second, before just— coming to terms with it. It’s probably true. It’s kind of come full circle, hasn’t it? Louis was the first person he was ever properly in love with, and now, they’re naked in Harry’s bed. Yeah. If anyone were to ask him who the love of his life is, his answer would most likely be Louis. It’s a nice thought.


End file.
